


and we party every weekend so

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, idk this is just some silly banter at a party and then they make out, very light ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au. oneshot. harry and louis are both sober designated drivers at a party. harry makes louis feel like he's drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we party every weekend so

**Author's Note:**

> i do not own one direction, all of this is purely fiction. you know the drill.
> 
> hey! so this is the first larry fic i've ever posted. it's just a small little thing. i'm working on capturing their characters and all. but i love writing about them. shouts to childish gambino for the title- from 3005.

Louis secretly loves being the designated driver. Not because he particularly loves being sober at parties, no. He’s really quite a fan of getting absolutely smashed. But he does like knowing that his friends are being taken care of, a sentiment drawn from a slightly motherly instinct he’s found within himself as he’s grown up. Not only that, but people are just fucking stupid when they’re drunk. And he gets to witness that in a clear state of mind, and tease people about it later. In that way he can still be a little evil even whilst doing the noble thing. 

He’s comfortably situated on a maroon-colored tweed sofa where he’s just been joined by a rowdy group that’s lit a joint. A girl from his group, Addie, is sitting on the right of him, smelling pleasantly intoxicated and giggling into his shoulder as she warbles about the boy she wants to hook up with. There’s two people on the other side of Louis on the couch, and three people sitting cross-legged on the floor in behind the coffee table. Everyone’s laughing about something the guy sitting on Louis’s left side said- a joke about fucking twizzlers or something. To demonstrate, he pulls a twizzler out of seemingly nowhere and whips back and forth a bit. 

“See what I mean?” He says, laughing himself. Louis doesn’t know what he means. He laughs anyway- the grin on the guy’s face is so absurdly large he can’t help it. Liam takes the first hit and passes it, and after that things get quite subdued. 

Louis watches as Liam’s eyes grow distant. The party becomes hazier and moldable, like everything revolves around him. It's as if everything shifts into a pyramid, with himself in the middle and the atmosphere in his peripherals dripping at the edges. He could stand up and wield his power, spin everything around, make everyone dizzy, laughing, punch-drunk- if he could stand. The sofa’s too nice to try it though.

At least, that’s what he usually feels when he’s high. Addie hands him the blunt and he passes it along to twizzler boy. He’s an evil designated driver, but not irresponsible. 

Twizzler raises his brow as he takes it from Louis. 

“You don’t smoke?” 

“DD tonight.” Louis responds. 

Twizzler nods slowly, sticking the joint between his lips. Lips that are, Louis notices with increased interest, a rich shade of pink. Louis would call them plump if he used the word plump. But the word plump is an abomination, so he settles for the word “full” instead. Twizzler boy has full, pink lips. Lips that would look really super fantastic around his dick. 

Louis watches as those lips purse around the blunt, green eyes flutter shut, and cheekbones protrude gracefully as the guy takes a drag. He’s got long brown hair, down to his shoulders, and he rakes his fingers through it before extracting the blunt from his mouth. Louis starts to feel faintly buzzed at the sight. Is he even into the long hair thing? He doesn’t know.  
“I’m DD tonight too unfortunately,” Blowjob-lipped Jesus says, and Louis needs to know this guy’s name because his nicknames are getting blasphemous . “But I don’t really see anything wrong with one hit.”

“I don’t either, really. I just kind of like the whole experience of being sober in a room full of hammered idiots. People are dumb when they’re drunk. I’m not drunk so I’m smart. Does wonders for my self esteem.”

“Are you sure you don’t just hate fun?” Christ-with-lipgloss chuckles. An easy smile’s settled onto his face, revealing two thin dimples. 

“There are ways to have fun without using substances, sir. Didn’t some police officer come teach you that in grade school?”

The guy snaps his fingers and points at Louis animatedly. “Yes! Officer Meanus! Great man... great man. Owe everything I know about drugs and alcohol to him. Not that I took much of his advice though,” he chuckles.

“Your police officer was named Officer Meanus?” Louis asks, starting to laugh. 

“Yes! I swear!”

“Oh my god. So did you come up with a penis nickname or what?”

“I got in trouble so many times. I think I was best known for saying ‘Officer Meanus and His Crime Stopping Penis’. And I probably joked about marrying him so my name would be ‘Harry Meanus’”

“Brilliant,” Louis laughs, nodding in approval. Harry’s his name. Harry with Jesus hair and blowjob lips. “Harry Meanus.” 

“I’d love to be Harry Meanus. At least you have to change a letter to get the pun. Harry Styles is one on its own.”

Louis chokes on his laughter. “Harry Styles?” He asks, incredulous. “You have legit Jesus hair and your name is Harry Styles?” 

The joint comes back around and Louis hands it to Harry, still laughing. “Here, bud. You deserve a hit for that.”

Harry grins and passes it along as well. 

“No, no. Let’s have some sober fun. Since you’re such the advocate for it,”

He waggles his eyebrows about, and _fuck_ it’s cute. Somewhere above him, there are drunk people getting laid in bedrooms that aren’t theirs; and behind him he hears the faint pop of fucking champagne being opened, a dull wave of cheers roaring in his ears. There’s Liam on the floor flirting openly with a dark haired boy beside him on the floor, and now Addie is animatedly telling her infamous first period story to a blonde guy while situated in his lap. But somehow, the only thing that seems to be in focus out of all the shit going on right now is this cute, dimply Harry. Why does Louis feel drunk when he’s completely sober?

“Louis Tomlinson.” Louis blurts. Oh god. Harry’s handing him a twizzler, and Louis is blurting his name without being prompted. “My name. It is not a pun. Just thought you should know.” 

Harry’s now got a whole package of twizzlers in his hands. “Shame. Puns are great.”  
He snaps his fingers again. “I’ll think of someone you can marry who’ll make your name a pun.”

“Do it. I’ll look ‘em up in the phone book and pop the question.”

From there on out it’s as easy as it started. Louis isn’t exactly making an effort to talk to Harry. Maybe if he was on the prowl for a lay he would’ve been pursuing him. But he isn’t, and for some reason, he can’t find a way to stop talking to Harry. When the blunt started circulating, they fell into conversation, and they’re still in it, even as the joint dies out and music thumps and the air becomes thick, weighing down on him and coaxing him to relax into the sofa cushions. He and Harry pretend to smoke bits of twizzler; sucking on them, taking them between two fingers and blowing out nothing before saying the most ridiculous things they could think of in a posh accent. 

He learns what the joke was that Harry had made about twizzlers earlier. He’d told everyone that if he was a candy, he would be twizzlers, because apparently he is “sweet, and also quite bendy.”

Louis says he would be an atomic fireball. Hot on the outside. You have to suck on him before he gives you sweetness. Harry pretty much screams in laughter. 

Addie and the blonde dude start making out furiously after shotgunning the last of the blunt. Liam’s disappeared. So has the dark haired guy. Louis really should go check up on the rest of his group. 

“What’s your opinion on sex?” Harry asks then. His hair has gone up tied in a bun at the back of his head. It looks nice on him, Louis thinks. He’s definitely not thinking about the group anymore.

“Whoah there. That’s a pretty straightforward question isn’t it.” Louis says. 

“Mmmm. Not really. I’d more consider it… gayforward.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Louis says, beginning to laugh hysterically. “I am definitely going to fucking steal that. Amazing.”

Harry’s eyes pop noticeably. “In what context?”

“When girls try and get with me, duh. I’ve been looking for a gentler way to let them down for years. It’s a hard life, being such a heartbreaker.”

 

The dimples make another appearance. Louis should make a game. How often can he make the dimples come out.

“I’m sure it is. You didn’t answer the question though.”

“Sex is good. I’m quite fond of it,” Louis says, simply.

“Not with girls though?”

“Not with girls.”

“Me neither.” Harry says. There are the dimples again. Point for Louis!

So they’re both gay, and Harry’s hot. And he’s funny and dorky and they’ve been talking for hours and they’re seemingly very compatible. This feels like it’s something very much intentional by some sort of metaphysical force, something like fate, and Louis is not really in the mood to question whether he believes in that bullshit or not. Not when he’s sober but he feels drunk out of his mind, and a very beautiful human is right in front of him, talking openly about sex and looking openly like sex too.

“Hey do something for me,” Louis tells Harry, who’s chewing now on another twizzler. He nods happily, and the twizzler bobs from between his teeth obscenely. Louis tries not to moan. “Let’s just, for a second… I know we’re sober, but… let’s pretend we’re drunk, okay? Let’s pretend we’re drunk off our asses, sitting here on this couch. What do you think we would be doing?”

Harry rips the twizzler out of his mouth and chews loudly. He turns to face Louis fully, crossing his legs, sitting sideways on the couch. His eyes drag up Louis’ body, resting on his crotch, the peek of his stomach from underneath his white sweater, his lips. He chews with an almost cocky look to him, a slight smirk and furrowed brows that contort his face to look far more purposeful than the boyishness that smiles give him. He seems to know what Louis is getting at as his eyes are still on Louis’ lips when he says, in the sexiest voice Louis has ever heard, “I’d probably be vomiting somewhere into a toilet to be honest. I’m not famous for holding my liquor around hot guys.”

Yeah, Louis wants to kiss him. “Good thing we’re not drunk then.”

“Good thing.”

So they’re on the same page. And so Louis reaches for the collar of Harry’s shirt to pull him forward, and catches his mouth with his. And this, this is the drunkest he’s felt all night. They’re making out wildly now, Louis climbing onto Harry’s lap, mouths searing together hotly. Their tongues tangle and hands roam, Louis pulls out Harry’s bun and runs his hands through his hair. He takes a handful and pulls, yanking Harry’s head to roll back, and Harry moans. Louis straightens up, keeping pressure on his handful of Harry’s hair, and settles on kissing from above, controlling. 

“Fuck. I love that.” Harry groans breathlessly. They’re rocking together, kissing and kissing, and it’s so good Louis can’t believe it. Before, when they were talking, everything else was fuzzy except for him and Harry. Now, it’s like nothing else even fucking exists, nothing except for Harry’s flushed cheeks, the feel of his hair, and the way their mouths and hips move in sync. It’s the best drunk kiss Louis has ever had, and he’s not even drunk. Maybe that’s the reason why it’s the best. Or maybe Harry’s just that good. Louis doesn’t care. 

There’s a loud crash and Harry and Louis spring apart. “Fuck,” Louis breathes, running his hands through his fringe. Harry’s pupils are blown and they’re both panting heavily. He tears his eyes away from Harry’s lips, which are now positively plush from making out, and finds that the room is pretty much empty, save a sleeping guy on the armchair next to the tv. 

Right. There’s a party going on. There’re things other than this happening. He’s got friends. They’ve got to get home safely. 

“Fuck,” Louis says again, turning back to Harry. 

“Yeah, fuck. Louis I literally feel like I’m drunk. Holy shit,” Harry says, shaking his head and cracking a smile up at Louis. 

“I do too. That was the best drunk kiss I’ve ever had.”

And… dimples! “But seriously,” Louis continues. “I’ve unfortunately got to collect my friends. They’re counting on their DD to get them home safely, and all.” He reluctantly climbs off Harry’s lap. 

“Really? Now?” Harry asks, looking disappointed.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. It sucks.”

“Yeah. I was kind of ready to get back to the kissing thing.”

“Me too,” Louis says. “But… duty calls.”

“Hey, you should give me your number. I’ll invite you to a party maybe. We can have fun my way!”

And… well, Louis hesitates out of habit. Hookups from parties. Bad news and all that. But he winds up taking Harry’s phone from his outstretched hand anyway, because he’s fucking cute, okay, with a “Yeah, alright. What kind of fun is that anyway?”

 

Harry smirks. “The kind of fun that elementary school told us not to have. With substances. And sex. Especially sex.”

“I did admit to enjoying that last one,” Louis says, handing Harry back his phone. “I just might have to take you up on that offer. Though nothing is as fun as twizzlers, substances or no substances,”

“There will be twizzlers,” Harry says immediately, and Louis laughs loudly. He really needs to go. So he leaves, waving to a dimply Harry.

He collects Liam, and Addie, and Stan and Cass, all of whom plead in varying states of comprehensibility to stay. They pile drunkenly into Louis’ car, and sing off-key to the music blasting from his radio, until they’re all sleeping, slumped against their headrests, bathed in the light from the stoplight while Louis looks on them fondly. 

He herds them into his place, and dumps them onto places to sleep. Liam on a couch, Stan on his other couch, Cass and Addie in his guest bed. There’s a glass of water by each of them by the time Louis retires to his own room.

He opens his phone to several texts from an unknown number. 

'Hey louis! It’s harry !!'

'I rly hope u remember me we made out'

'I just wanted to tell u that I hope u got back safely and i had a nice time talking & kissin with u and also I thougt of someone u could marry so that ur name is a pun'

'WHoever’s last name is mama u should marry bc then ur name will be Louis Mama and when u say louis realy pronounced like loo-WEE it sounds like zoo wee mama'

Louis puts down his phone so he can stuff his face in his pillow and laugh. A happy smile lingers on his face as he types out his reply:

'got home safe thnx! the drunks r all asleep' 

'and wow harry good one. u sure u didnt consume any alcohol' 

Harry’s reply comes in a few minutes later.

'Positive! Ur just an ass!!! xx'

Louis just rolls his eyes and settles back into his bed, the lingering smile still present. "Marry someone with the last name ‘Mama’" he thinks. "Harry Styles, if you change your name to that, then maybe I just might."

**Author's Note:**

> give a comment! or not! or talk to me on tumblr (paprikadarling is my user wats good)! or not! do whatever makes you happiest in the world!
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
